


Come over to My House

by businessirius



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Flirting, Fluff and Crack, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Marauders Era (Harry Potter), Mutual Pining, POV Remus Lupin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-15
Updated: 2020-06-15
Packaged: 2021-03-04 01:40:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 11,762
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24735550
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/businessirius/pseuds/businessirius
Summary: Seven summers spent at the Lupins'Inspired by Herizen's album 'Come over to My House'
Relationships: Sirius Black/Remus Lupin
Comments: 11
Kudos: 61





	1. Come over to My House

In the beginning, all Remus Lupin had wanted out of Hogwarts was to just get by, stay out of fights, clear of trouble, make it out unnoticed, enter the stage and then leave eight months later without a whimper, without losing too many house points and without getting on anyone’s blacklist.

“Honey, if you ever feel upset, take ten deep breaths” his mother had said to him countless times the summer before. Unsaid: don’t you dare to lose your shit, because whenever you throw a fit or a punch around here people just let it go, they think you’re just slightly unhinged and screwy around the edges, but there they know, they know what happens to you every month, they know what lives inside you, what you inhale with every breath and exhale with every sigh, they know you’re a beast itching to get loose and they’re counting on it, and you can’t prove them right, you must not, you must not.

Remus had practiced restraint every day since the Bearded Man had offered him a ticket out of Belleek, all expenses covered. He would upset his own self and then control his own temper, look for a stillness that lived right underneath the moon, deep in his ribs.

But he was still Remus Lupin – he couldn’t possibly stay out of trouble, especially when he had magic underneath his fingernails, clawless, moonless. So, between Transfiguration and Charms, Remus mastered the enchantment of safe trouble, safety in the shape of friends, three of them, now stretched out on various surfaces of his living room, exhausted after a day of hide and seek in the mountains and running after each other in the valley, postponing imminent showers. He had lost fifteen points, but he was sure he would’ve lost more on his own.

“Remus, I need you to pick some things from the grocery store” his mother calls from the kitchen and he gets up, knees popping and hips clicking, at only twelve years old. She was delighted – and suspicious, though that was also unsaid – to know her son, her only son, her friendless, odd son, had made friends, three of them, and insisted they spent a week over, a week in the middle of warm July, the week of the anniversary of the day his dad had left, but that was definitely unnecessary to say.

“I want to go! I have never been to a muggle market.” 

“It’s not really a market” Remus clarifies, a little stiffly, but even a pencil and an eraser seemed wonderful to Sirius Black, clear eyes open wide, glistening, trying to soak everything up, enthusiastic towards the smallest things, who had introduced himself to Remus by asking him how did he fold his socks manually.

“I will believe it when I see it” he says as he gets up, everything in his movement and posture screaming well-bred, Sirius-I-have-so-much-money-Black, and Remus knew his little, posh ass wouldn’t stand a chance in the sun-setting main road of Belleek without being teased.

“It’ll take ten minutes tops, just stay here” he insists, but Sirius is already walking through him, towards his mother.

Sirius doesn’t understand the concept of no, which is annoying at best and dangerous at worst (even though Remus was extremely careful with the undressing and dressing process, Sirius had taken a glimpse of his scarred body not once but twice, and Remus had to threaten him to keep him out of the infirmary), to the point where he wished that Sirius wouldn’t have been able to come over to his house, predicting something like this would happen. He even thought about only inviting James and Peter, but that would’ve been rude – he couldn’t really explain why, but had Sirius been the host and leave him out of it, he would hurt and, wanting to avoid the thoughts on new-found vulnerability, he soon discarded the idea. Then, he thought about only inviting James, arguing that he only had space for one person, but he was terrified of boring the mind out of him, so he did as his mother told him and invited the three of them, waiting for Sirius refusal letter, and hoping he would leave his over-indulgence at home when a confirmation one came. 

Remus follows him into the kitchen, and says to his mother as he grabs the money, “I think Sirius should stay”

“I think Remus could use some company”

Hope looks slightly conflicted, and then Sirius shots her his brightest grin, stupid charming for a kid.

“Four hands do work better than two” she states, and Remus rolls his eyes. At that point it was more about standing his ground than just a grocery store trip, and he couldn’t believe his own mother had denied his authority like that, in his own home “Bring me bread, and butter, apples and blackberries. Use the change to buy something you fancy”

Remus sulks the whole way to the grocery store, not replying to Sirius exhaustive description of Diagon Alley – Remus had all his supplies taken care of by the Bearded Man, store-bought, but not with his money – but he is listening and picturing it all, nevertheless. 

He is getting progressively less upset as he observes Sirius picking up apples, thrilled and careful in equal measure, taking as much time as Remus does to get all his mother asked, plus chips and chocolate. Sirius is fascinated by a yo-yo, and they buy it even though Remus argues it was an idiotic, useless toy for six-year-olds.

Sirius plays with it as Remus carries the groceries up the hill, amused by his friend’s quickly gained skill. Sirius was a fast learner, something Remus gathered not by the way he excelled in every class, but by the way he picked on James’ ways – both antisocial Lupin and snooty Black and eager Pettigrew promptly realized casual Potter was just the right amount, friendly but still cool, polite without being up his own ass. While Peter’s and Remus’ own attempts to resemble James fell short and felt quite ridiculous, Sirius managed to seize the way he sat cross-legged in the common room and threw arms around his friends’ shoulders with finesse, taking over James’ slang and carefree laughter and making it his own, becoming so unbelievably cool for a first year that even James himself started to mimic the sequence in which Sirius had his breakfast, or the way he dog-eared his school books.

Distracted by the way Sirius’ fast hands worked a yo-yo, Remus only notices the four older boys going down the road, towards them, later than he would’ve liked.

“Let’s cross the street” 

“No” 

“Come on” Remus reaches for his arm, but Sirius swerves it, walking faster, defiantly playing with his yo-yo.

Remus thinks about crossing the street on his own, leaving Sirius and all the leverage of his stubbornness to deal with the mess he had gotten himself into. Instead, he picks up his pace, standing by his side.

“Hand it over” the largest boy, full of acne in his face, dumb combat boots on his feet says, pointing to Sirius’ yo-yo.

“No” Sirius tilts his head, playing with it. Remus wants to knock some sense into his head.

“He said” the tallest one intervenes, hair as long as Sirius’, but greasier, crooked teeth forming a threatening smile “to give him that”

“Just hand-” Remus says quietly, but is cut by Sirius petulant, stuck-up voice. 

“Come get it, wanker” 

As soon as the words leave his mouth, Sirius is pushed into the ground, combat boots kicking his ribs and legs straddling his hips before he could try to get up. It is similar to Remus in a way, the vain toughness, the idle resistance, the meaningless pride, but different in another, the inability to avoid a fight when you stand no chance.

Remus pulls the guy who was jabbing Sirius’ face by the back of his shirt, lands a hook, then another, lets him trip on his own feet as he lets go. Diverts a punch from the tallest one, misses when he tries, suffers one, but manages a knee jab on his guts and an elbow strike on his jaw without losing his balance.

Fighting is a violence different from the moon, energizing rather than draining, and he likes the human bruises better.

The largest one spits on Sirius’ face before turning to Remus, pushing him violently. Remus grabs the straps of his backpack and gets on top of him when they hit the floor, scratching his face more than hitting, a little out of control, until the tallest one holds him up by his arms as the third one kicks and sucker-punches him. 

With the moon only a week away, Remus reaches the point that made other kids stay away from him, his teaches speak in muffled whispers, his mother cry, his father leave. Remus yells as he untangles himself and, in a mess of arms and legs, knocks one to the floor and makes the other one bleed.

When he looks at Sirius, who is wiping the spit and the tears out of his face with the back of his hand, Remus can’t read his expression – it isn’t shock, neither pity, not even ah-there-it-is-lopsided-Lupin. He turns away, clutching his ribs, and Remus follows.

They walk in silence, as Remus panicks in silence – what if Sirius, cheekbones pink-sore like the evening sky, tells James and Peter that they ought to get out of his house before any fragile bolt that was keeping the mess that was his friend’s mind together unscrew and they had to deal with the damage, what if Sirius, jaw darkening like the blackberries in Remus’ hand, writes to the Bearded Man, expressing his concerns regarding his own safety and well-being, what if the Bearded Man just tells him the truth and he is outcasted by his new-found friends, expelled, he should’ve just taken his fucking deep breaths and let Sirius’ take his first beating and whatever lesson hidden there. 

“You’ve got to teach me how to do that” he says instead, voice smaller than usual but cheekier than expected, regarding the circumstances.

“Uh?”

“They were three. You handled them. All of them. By yourself”

Sirius is looking at him like one would look at a hippogriff. Or at a werewolf. 

“I’m not- I don’t- I wouldn’t hurt you” Remus manages, feeling the moon at the bottom of his throat, tight. He would probably cry if Sirius decided that he would, and prevented it from happening by keeping away, and with him, everyone.

“Not fighting me. Just like, a punch. For, you know, exemplification”

“Uh?”

It takes a little to settle, and when it does, it remains just as unsettling. Sirius wouldn’t fear a hippogriff, not really. He would be astonished, just as he is by muggle supplies, and apples, and Remus’ losing his cool, apparently. 

“Show me how to throw a punch” he smiles, and Remus’ stomach does a loop in a mix of confusion, and relief, and urgency. If that’s what it takes, he’ll do it.

“The secret is in your fist” he replies, voice failing as he exemplifies with his own hand “Tuck your thumb over your middle finger, close tightly. Uh, keep your wrist straight, aligned with your elbow, and let it turn inward”

Sirius doesn’t take long to get it right. Remus drops the bag of groceries and turns to stand in front of him. Sirius is looking at him with awe, a quiet, shy, but somehow defiant awe.

“Let’s practice, the movement only” Remus says, his stomach still tingling, and Sirius does so, getting in a fighting stance, feet under shoulders, arms raised, dominant hand against his chin “Bend your knees, slightly, and slide your back foot under your shoulder, rotate your chest- yeah. Well, yes.”

Sirius laughs and then forces a frown, his purple-bruised nose giving credibility to his semblance, too tough for a 12-year-old face full of baby-fat, the mischief undeniably going along with his noble, refined features. 

“Extend your arm, elbow and shoulder aligned, and follow through after the collision” Remus instructs, Sirius’ knuckle brushing his jaw, and he leans away “If you feel like you’re going to miss, do. Don’t move to try to connect the punch, you will lose your balance and get punched yourself”

They practice until Remus isn’t nervous anymore, until he is actually glad Sirius had come along, to his house, to the grocery store. The sun is already setting when they get back home, Sirius bumping into him in the doorway.

“Professor Lupin” he smiles, tilting his head. Remus smiles back.


	2. Paradise

They go to his house on August, instead. Sirius was going to spend his July in France, so Remus rescheduled. James brought him a pair of red converse that his aunt had bought him, and was insisting on him keeping them over breakfast, even though Remus had decided against it the night before.

“They are enormous. My feet _swim_ in there. You would be doing me a favor by keeping them, Lupin”

“Wait until your feet grow, then” Remus says as his stuffs half a pancake in his mouth, starving still, three days after the moon. The shoes were the coolest, but he wasn’t a charity case.

“Come on, that would be a waste of a good pair of shoes. And red is definitely your colour” says James, with his red suitcase and his red Quidditch jersey and his red swimming trunks and his red pajamas.

Sirius laughs, Peter snorts, and then says “I’d take them, if only they fit me”

“I can get my own shoes”

“Oh- I know that” James states, spilling orange juice on the table “I do. I just happen to have a ridiculously big pair of sneakers that don’t fit no one in the world but you, Lupin”

“One of the wonders of being thirteen, Potter, is that various parts of your body-”

“Would you look at that” Peter interrupts, pointing at the television behind Remus. New York’s Pride March broadcast – a shot of hundreds of people walking down the street, a shot of a woman stating that _as long as gay people don’t have their rights all across America, there’s no reason for celebration,_ a shot of a man tugging a strand of another man’s hair behind his ear, leaning to kiss him on his cheek.

“Remus” Sirius snaps his fingers and Remus turns back, startled, finding all of his friends looking at him.

“They get arrested, just because” he manages, feeling hot beneath his shirt and hoping he was not blushing “it’s awful”

“Yeah” Peter agrees, nodding “I have an aunt who is, you know. Has a wife”

“Married?” Remus asks, quite aware of the edges of the legal terms of marriage.

“Well, not by the institution” Peter clarifies, waving, mouth-full “not certificated. But on practical terms, yes”

 _Practical terms_ is not a clear enough definition for Remus. Tug strands of hair behind ears and kiss cheeks, every day? He doesn’t know how to ask Peter to elaborate.

“My parents have a friend, a woman, who transitioned” James informs, and Peter nods.

“The Hufflepuff keeper-”

“Really?”

“Yeah. Hell of a player”

“Absolutely”

While James and Peter chat, Remus steals a glance at Sirius, who is listening attentively, as he rarely does in classes and sometimes does when James is talking Quidditch or prank-planning and always does when Remus is explaining manual blinds and dish washing to him.

As he leads his friends to a little cascade, which he had found during one of his winter strolls, Remus can’t get the footage off his mind. He wonders about the dozens and dozens and dozens of people who can’t get married or have kids and are marching against it, all of them with names and faces. Are they scared? He thinks he would be.

The weird, fuzzy sensation at the pit of his stomach slowly fades away as they engage in every activity that crosses James’ imagination, fueled by Sirius utter boredom after twenty minutes of doing the same thing, especially if Remus isn’t crying with laughter. From skipping rocks and jumping to the water and playing truth or dare, to racing and playing with the little frogs and exploring the whereabouts, they never stay still.

“This is such a nice place” Sirius says as he does a handstand, droplets of water travelling from his trunks to his stomach, up his chest “How did you find it?”

“Walking around” a grin, and then a chuckle.

“Same way you found the passage behind Gregory the Smarmy?” James interjects, and Sirius tilts his head, smiling wide “And the one to Honeydukes?”

“Yeah” a shrug, and another chuckle “Too much time on my hands”

“You should be a cartographer. Or try space, since the earth is all figured out” Peter jokes, and Sirius falls on the floor with a gracious tumble.

“We could map Hogwarts out, and trace where Filch is, to get rid of unwanted encounters” Sirius suggests, and James’ eyes widen.

“We could do every teacher”

“And each other, so I can save the time I spend looking for you, whenever you decide to take either my homework or my broom for a walk”

“You might be a genius, Sirius Black”

“Likewise, Potter”

Remus pictures it immediately – his name on the Shrieking Shack, every moon, his friends connecting the dots. As Sirius mischievously grins at him, he wonders if he hadn’t connected them already.

“That’s so weird” he says, but Sirius smile doesn’t flatter. He wonders how much time it will take him.

But now, in the bright four o’clock sun, time isn’t a problem, and Remus is determined on not making it so. Their remaining hours of sun stretch like their tanned limbs and fold on one another like their changing voices and strident laughter.

When they get home, his mother greets them with Remus’ favourite smile, the tranquil, easy one, quite rare because she is always so, so worried, and Remus’ favourite meal, pretending not to notice when he smuggles a whole chocolate bar upstairs.

Between bits of chocolate and laughter and questions and confessions, they tire themselves out. Remus gets on his bed, his friends sharing a massive air mattress on the floor, cozy on their respective sleeping bags, and is drifting off to sleep when he hears Sirius’ voice, small and strained, so unlike of him.

“Mates” an inhale, an exhale “Do you think your parents would choose you, if they had that choice?”

Remus sinks lower below his sheets.

“Yeah” Peter says, and then winces as if he was pinched.

“What happened?” James’ voice, tender, the sound of his body shifting.

“Nothing big” Sirius says and James hums “Well- it’s quite silly, but once this summer I lost track of time and, uh, missed dinner. And they didn’t like, call for me. And I know I shouldn’t like, distract myself up to that point, or whatever, but they call Regulus whenever he is late”

“Yeah” James encourages him, this insecure, voice-low, tripping over words version of Sirius that needed encouragement to talk. It weirds Remus out, and he wishes he could just fall asleep right away.

“So, I tried out my theory, and was late on purpose two times afterwards and, uh, well, they never called for me. Nor saved some food. It was as if I didn’t even exist”

James hums, and Remus thinks he is going to dismiss it, but he asks instead, “Do you think this is because you were sorted into Gryffindor?”

“Maybe, I don’t know. But, there you have it, that’s who I am”

“That’s not everything-” Peter tries to intervene, and Sirius interrupts him with an attitude.

“Well, but it matters”

Remus thinks he is right. It does matter. They are there, together, because they were sorted into Gryffindor. He thinks about his father, leaving after the bite – but that was understandable. Sirius is a model-child, he shouldn’t feel this way.

“You could tell their displeasure by my birthday gift” he jokes, a sour edge in his voice, painful to hear. Remus wished he remembered what it had been, the gift “and in the summer they got Regulus a new surfboard, only him. But it doesn’t really matter, you know. Just- they never ask me about school, or about anything at all, and whenever I say something, I think they don’t even listen”

“Have you spoken to Regulus about it?” Peter asks, “He’s enrolling next year, right?”

“Yeah. We’ve talked about it once” Sirius sighs brokenly “he said it ought to get better”

“Maybe he’s right, then”

Remus doesn’t believe so, and doubts Sirius does. He understands what he is talking about, he knows it too well, the sudden but long-coming distance, the cutting small things, the sensation of disappointment there at the crook of their necks forever, creeping up, weighing down, like the moon. He has to let Sirius know that he also knows.

“Easier when you’re a Slytherin”

“Look, my sister is a Hufflepuff and-”

“My father wouldn’t have chosen me” Remus says, his voice strained, and clears his throat “He made it clear”

Silence, and then, the footage of the hundreds of people who can’t marry, who can’t have kids, marching and demanding their right to love, not scared because they knew they were worth it.

“But I’ve got my mom. And, you know, you guys, that I got along the way” until, the thought creeps up, but Remus shoves it down “So I think we do have that choice, all things considered”

Remus can hear his own heartbeat when he is finished, loud on his throat, and wishes for it to last, wishes that they choose him again, when they find out. It is a big request, but there is a lot at stake.

“Beautifully said, Lupin” he can hear James’ smile, but that isn’t quite what he wants.

He waits one, two, three, four heartbeats for Sirius’ reply.

“Thanks” he ends up saying “for the shoes too, you know”

James laughs, and that is the last thing he hears before falling asleep.


	3. Get High

“Moony, go get the sugar and Sirius”

“Uh?”

Remus Lupin is high off his ass, on gillyweed James had gotten from a cousin. He had been in deep thought about the house elves rebellion he had just read a book on, and how he could get the moving Hogwarts stairs on their map, and the way Sirius scratched his jaw, and the fact that he was a living person, on a real space in time, not a character in a story, and how was it possible that his legs were numb when he was just touching them.

“I know you’re like, travelling to another dimension up there” James says, Peter’s head resting on his crossed legs, pressing a damp towel on his forehead “but Wormtail here’s having a tough one. I asked Padfoot to bring sugar, he got lost in the way. Go get both, before your mom does”

“Count on it, Prongs” he says, getting up. _Hallway-kitchen-sugar-Padfoot-bedroom_ , he plans in his head.

The nicknames, the thrill he felt whenever he used them, whenever he was called Moony – his friends found out he was a deadly, stigmatized creature and gave him a cute pet-name. The sheer luck he had.

He messes his plan up when he notices the light of the bathroom was on, and slightly opens the door, finding Sirius sat on the floor.

“Got you” Sirius looks up, clear eyes watery and half-closed. Remus laughs, a bubble of hysteria on his throat, and Sirius laughs back.

It was getting harder and harder to get a genuine laugh out of Sirius Black, who used to burst out laughing every three minutes. At that point in time, he had mastered the art of a smug grin, combined with an eye roll and a shrug and, sometimes, his own hand running through his hair. It was rehearsed, Remus was sure of it, but it wasn’t half as ridiculous as it ought to.

“I wasn’t-” Sirius says, waving, and Remus gaze diverts to his hand, holding his mother’s eyeliner.

“Oh, you could” it sounded weird, too high-pitched, especially compared with Sirius’ raspy tone.

His eyes get back to Sirius, disheveled hair and pink lips parted.

“The guy in the poster, in your room”

“Yeah” a nod, and Sirius’ expectant eyes on him “He’s a musician. I can bring the record player to my room, play it for you. We can’t forget what Prongs asked for, though”

“Sugar”

“Hm-hm” an inhale, an exhale “I think he looks good, with make-up”

Sirius smiles, tilts his head, and Remus mirrors. They’re fourteen and they feel at the edge of the world.

“Tell you what, take it home with you, practice over the holidays” Remus says, and Sirius slides it in his pocket, getting up “Come on”

Remus floats to the kitchen, Sirius behind him with his hands shaking, gets the sugar, water and an apple, then the living room, gets _The Rise and Fall Of Ziggy Stardust and Spiders from Mars_ , and instructs his friend to carry the record player.

“Took your fucking time” James rolls his eyes when they get in, Peter shirtless on the floor with James bent over him, gently blowing air towards his face.

Remus puts the music on as his friends take care of each other and sighs with contentment as he throws himself on his bed, the instrumental intro filling his ears, his lungs, his veins, the moon on her last quarter.

Then, as the third song starts, the weight of a body next to his, shiny dark hair tickling his cheek. Remus can smell him, and inhales throughout, salt and cinnamon.

_Keep your electric eye on me, babe_  
_Put your ray gun to my head_  
_Press your space face close to mine, love_  
_Freak out in a moonage dream, oh yeah_

Sirius folds his arm, so his index and his middle finger rest against the crook of Remus’ elbow. He can physically feel his blood rushing to the point to pressure, all his skin cells itching for the same contact, the moon on his ribs shrinking, the space filled with something else.

_Don’t fake it, baby_  
_Lay the real thing on me_  
_The church of man love_  
_Is such a holy place to be_

It feels like flipping the first page of an exam paper, his eyes clashing with the key word, those two seconds of suspended breathing before he reads the question clearly and organizes his answer in his head, so close to figuring something out. He can feel the realization at the tip of his tongue, a breakthrough burning underneath his nails.

_Make me, baby_  
_Make me know you really care_  
_Make me jump into the air_


	4. Social Jungle

Remus, sat with each leg on the side of a branch of the fig tree in his backward, stares as Sirius reaches for another fig, perching himself with one arm, the fine muscles slightly stiffen, his shoulders broad under the white t-shirt, neck glistening with sweat.

He stares as Sirius’ teeth rip the peel off the fruit, and he bites down, squinting his eyes, smuggled eyeliner from the night before, his jawline sharp, his lips wet. He wipes the space between his nose and his upper lip with the back of his hand, but there’s still juice trickling down his chin.

“You’re staring” he says, and Remus can hear the rich sweetness of the fruit in his speech.

“I am” Remus tilts his head, _been doing that for a while now, what are you going to do about it_ , scratches his neck “You’ve got juice trickling down your chin”

“You stare often”

“You’re always making a fool of yourself”

Sirius gets closer, his shirt rises a little, soft skin tanned, dark hair under his belly button. He is smiling, Remus’ favourite smile, the one that starts in his eyes and has a lot of teeth and Sirius keeps just for him. Remus wants him to smile like this all the time, wants to keep him there, up his fig tree, with him, safe. He had heard him talk to James earlier that morning, asking if he could go back to his, just for a fortnight, his voice tiny and strained with fear as he said _I don’t want to go back home just now._ Remus had felt the anger rising like the moon, furious at Sirius’ parents and at Regulus, who looked the other way then they crossed each other in the hallways at school.

“Come clean it”

“How come?”

“You heard it”

Remus leans in, his tongue just above Sirius’ adam’s apple, and licks the juice back to the corner of his lip, his tongue tingling and his head dizzy. Sirius’ breath catches, and Remus giggles against his chin, and the corner of Sirius mouth involuntarily turns upwards at the sound.

“That tongue could take you places, I reckon”

“Such as?” he asks close to Sirius’ ear, as he thinks there’s no place he’d rather be.

“Prefect rounds” Sirius raises an eyebrow cheekily, leaning away, and Remus rolls his eyes.

He wants to be chosen really, more because of the validation than the authority, but he knows that his condition is inconvenient at best, because of the schedule of missed nights, and a complete obstruction to it at worst. For the way it rolls out of Sirius’ mouth, for the fourth of fifth time in the last weeks, it feels plausible.

“If you don’t stop mentioning it, I might get used to the idea”

“I’ve put money on it, so we ought to speak it into existence”

“How much?”

“Now, wouldn’t want to inflate your ego” he laughs as he eats another fig, chewing with his mouth open “just be sure that I’m confident that Dumbledore’s obvious pick is Remus straight-Os, always on time, always nice, venerated by younger students, tie knotted tightly and shirt tucked in-”

“Come on, I’m tired of hearing you rambling about how bad you want to undo my tie and untuck my shirt every time you see me”

“More like, viciously rip”

“You’re more a dog that turns into a man than the opposite, just so you know” Remus says and Sirius bursts out laughing.

And there was _that_ as well, Padfoot’s paws on the werewolf’s chest, his chest, during the moons, free in the Forbidden Forest, and Sirius’ tender fingers on his cheeks in the mornings in the Shack, when is too early for James’ teasing and Sirius’ touch lasts a bit more. Remus feels _love_ bubbling in his ribs, all around the moon, whenever he thinks about all of it.

“That very illegal thing is just another reason why we need you to be a Prefect, we’re too shit at being subtle to survive without inside cover”

“I thought you’d be the rat, you know”

Sirius snorts, and licks his lips while holding his gaze, “Would you rather have your clothes nicked, is that what you’re saying?”

Remus laughs as he leans in, and Sirius leans in too, gently gripping Remus’ denim overalls.

“I like your muggle clothes, Moony” this close, Remus can smell him, grass and salt and sweat and cinnamon “These, I would take off really, really slowly”

“I doubt you’d have the self-control” Remus feels light-headed as he speaks. Sometimes he kind of misses his centered gravity, but then Sirius Black blushes and he really doesn't. 

“You wound me” Sirius smiles foolishly at him as he rips another fig apart and mouth-feeds it to Remus, his thumb lingering on his bottom lip.

Remus bites it.

“Ow, watch it!” Sirius jerks his hand away as he laughs “the moon is still seventeen days away”

“Counting the days, I see”

“Since the Sorting”

It’s a joke, but Remus takes his chance.

“You knew it, right? Before I told you lot”

Sirius shrugs, “Yeah”

“Since when?”

“First year, first semester” he says reticently, and Remus jaw drops “I figured your absences matched with the full moon, and asked Andromeda to check the Ministry records. Hard to keep a secret when you’re registered, uh? It was quite of an intrusion, I know, but I was stupid curious”

“Weren’t you like, scared?”

Sirius chuckles, but it’s kind, and lays down on the branch, legs spread apart in front of Remus, an arm over his eyes “You used to make small talk with the paintings and pet Mrs. Norris. Hardly a threat”

Still, he thinks, and then thinks about eleven-year-old Sirius who knew it all and still shared his snacks, and befriended him, and touched him, and made jokes with him, and came over to his house, and waited until he was ready to tell the truth with a new fondness.

“Not even when I went crazy on those lads, the first year you came down here?”

Sirius is silent for a little while, and then “You were defending our yo-yo”

Remus laughs, shoves his knee “Come on”

“It was more upsetting to see you so upset, it if makes sense. I thought it was harder on you than on them”

His voice is soft and gentle, but it brings Remus back to the beginning of 1974, a few weeks after the revelation, before the nicknames, when Remus was still waiting for a gentle let-down, James saying something along the lines of _we’re fine with you being a werewolf, but like, 10 feet apart_ , when he overheard Sirius venting to James on their dorm, pissed off because _any available information on werewolves only talks about identifying, and protecting yourself, and hunting, and bigoted legislation, there’s nothing substantial about the transformation or the anxiety before or how to take care of the wounds in the aftermath_ , and Remus had to press his back against the door and cover his smile with his hand as he calmed himself down before making his presence known.

“And were you expecting it?”

“No” he moves his arm, extending his arm in front of him, flexing and unflexing his fingers “but it wasn’t totally surprising. Considering how defensive you were”

“Not anymore?” Remus asks, a smile creeping on as he remembers his sharp, short replies in the beginning, locking himself in the bathroom and kicking the walls and breathing down whenever he was upset, and how now he vents to Sirius as they lay in the grass and lets himself be distracted and cheered up. _Look at you, Sirius Black, breaking down all my barriers._

“Not as much” Sirius smiles and scratches his jaw in the way Remus likes him to “kind of hot when you’re watching from an outside perspective”

“Tell me all about it” Remus snorts and as Sirius lifts his head, he loses his balance, squealing, and they laugh, and laugh, and laugh.


	5. Do What You Want To

It was the first night of the week they would spend over, and they all woke up with three owls pecking Remus’ bedroom window. Peter, who was closer, opened it and got the letters, feeding the owls with little snacks Remus had by the window afterwards.

“Slughorn, and Lily Evans, and Sirius”

“Do you and Evans write to each other?” James’ voice, suddenly alert.

“I haven’t mailed anything recently” Sirius’ one, still raspy and sleepy.

Remus gets up, grabbing the Slughorn’s one and tossing the others to the floor, greedy hands on them immediately.

He rips it open and skims over it: _students summer trip to Portugal, nature of your condition, no longer adequate for you, unfortunately, not exceptionally bright at Potions in all honesty, sincere apologies._

“Can I open it, Moony, can I?” James asks.

“I didn’t mean to send this one, I don’t know what happened” Sirius says, quite urgently.

“You’re free to keep it then, I’ve read enough victimization correspondence” Remus snaps as he makes his way to the bathroom “and don’t open my fucking mail, Prongs”

He takes a few deep breaths as he sits on the toilet lid, reads the letter throughout, tries to rationalize it: of course Severus Snape told the Head of his house, he was lucky he didn’t tell everyone else, and even if he was invited to the students trip he wouldn’t be able to afford it, that was how he would break down the news to Lily, it was alright, it would be boring anyway, just like his little dinners, he wouldn’t miss out on anything, no big deal, no real harm done.

He takes a piss, washes his hands and face, combs his hair, rubs his chest, _You’re good, you’re okay_ , and gets back into the room, three pairs of eyes on him.

He grabs Lily’s letter and lays down next to James, “Let’s ready it together, shall we?”, and James actually nuzzles up to his side. Sirius stares at them, two feet away, as Peter gets dressed.

Lily’s letter is delightful, as always. She talks about the book Remus’ suggested her, and suggests another one, and complains about her family in a light-hearted tone, making fun of her sister as she recalls the day they went to the beach, and asks about his mother, and if he had already made amends with Sirius, and talks about Slughorn’s student trip and the classes they can take next year and how she wants to pair up with him in Alchemy, and jokes about their Prefect rounds and sends all her love in the end.

“Even her handwriting with a pen is pretty” James says wonderingly and Remus chuckles.

“Write her sometime”

“She will throw it in the trash can”

“No, she won’t. I’m sure she will write back, if only to correct your spelling mistakes”

James laughs, and then looks at Remus, a little frown “She mentioned Slughorn’s trip. His letter…?”

“Yeah, not invited because I’m a werewolf”

James’ frown intensifies “He wrote that?” Remus nods “What a prick. Can he even do that?”

“I guess he has his own criteria to whom he invites to his own exclusive trips, James”

“How did he find out?” Peter chimes in, and James closes his eyes, making a pained expression and letting out a little sigh.

“Snape” Sirius mutters, and even though Remus is not looking at him he can picture it, the bad posture, the hands worrying his pajamas, the hair falling out of his bun, the nose scrunched, the eyes flinched.

“The best part” Remus speaks directly to James “is that he points out that I’m no good at Potions, as if that was been the real issue all along”

James laughs, and mutters “The nerve”

“You should be angrier” Sirius again, and Remus rolls his eyes.

“At you?”

James tenses up and gets off the bed “Come on lads, we’ve got a long day at the beach waiting for us, and I’m starving”

“Barely slept with you kicking me all night, think I’m going to stay in”

“No, you won’t!” James says in a good humor, tickling Sirius’ feet “Nap it out on the beach, I promise I’ll play catch with you”

That does it for Sirius, and Remus can feel his gaze on him as they dress up. A few months ago, he would stare back, up and down, and arch his eyebrow when caught, or smile, and think about it all day. That morning, he keeps his eyes on the floor.

Hope gives Sirius a dirty look when they leave the house and he notices, and recoils in shame, as he never does in Hogwarts and Remus assumes he used to do back at home. It is gut-wrenching to witness.

In April there had been a tremendous storm and the Lupin's fig tree had toppled over. In June, when Remus came home from school his mother had asked him if he was alright, which she never does, and he lied, but when she insisted, a whole week after, he told her what had happened, letting it slip that he was half in love with Sirius already. She was horrified, _how could you let him know what you are, he was probably planning it all along,_ and _you can’t think of another boy that way, he can’t find out or he will ruin you._

Remus figured it was well-intentioned, not meant to throw salt into the wound, but he wanted to argue, _oh mom, but he knows, and he feels it too, you’d have to see how he looks at me and how he talks to me_ , he even considered showing her the epistolary of letters Sirius had sent just that summer, all those love declarations hidden between half-apologies, _I miss you_ written a total of 39 times in only a month and a half.

Even though he had never replied, he had read every letter over ten times. He knew how to skip directly to the gaslighting bits and the heartbreaking parts that gave him an inexplicable thrill, and he had the sweetest lines memorized and would think about them while setting the table or hanging the clothes, overindulging in Sirius’ words that probably had way less meaning than what he was giving them.

When he explained to his mom that he _had to invite Sirius along, because Sirius was living with James and he wouldn’t leave him on his own at the Potters_ ’, she suggested that he only invited Peter. She almost obliged him to, saying _that young people often get attached to people who treat them disrespectfully because they’re naïve and easily manipulated and desperate for validation_. He frowned, as any sixteen-year-old does when adults attempt to lecture them on young people, and said _that’s not the case_ , and believed his words, sending a double invite to the Potters’ house.

Now they are all there, and off to the beach they go, and Sirius keeps himself at arm-length the whole day through, swimming faster than the three of them when they wandered off-limits, napping when they went to search for crabs and insisting on getting them ice-cream when the sun started to set.

Remus feels the absence of his fingers on his shoulders and his voice in his ear, of course he does, but it is a good day nevertheless – he missed his friends’ company so much his laughter comes easy to whatever James and Peter say or do, and he really loves the beach.

As he is finishing his ice cream, Sirius gets up to fetch his hoodie, rolled up inside the backpack that was next to Remus. _You could’ve just asked_ , he thinks as he stares at Sirius’ muscles stretching and his hands fixing his damp hair.

Sirius catches his eyes, they both breath in for a second, and then he asks, “Victimization correspondence?”

Remus feels like he is burning under his gaze and looks away.

“We’re going for a walk” Peter informs, grabbing James’ arm.

“I think this is a group conversation”

“But it isn’t, Potter” Peter retorts, and pulls James with him.

Remus stays silent as Sirius sits next to him, and the silence stretches for a while. Remus thinks of getting up and casually walking away, for comedic purposes.

“I don’t know what you meant with victimization correspondence” Sirius is looking at him, but he doesn’t look back.

“Just like” the tightness in his tone surprises them both “sorry about this little thing, but take into consideration that I was born into the worst family in the world, and I’m a martyr, and Severus Snape was bullying me, and no one ever gets as sad or as upset as I do, and you’ve no idea about the depth of my feelings even though you feel the same way, and all that’s vile in the world just ends up spiraling on me so what happened was not my fault, all things considered”

Remus silently scolds himself for having said so much. Sirius doesn’t immediately reply, and as Remus looks at him, he expects a frown, tensed jaw and crooked mouth and defiant eyes, and his heart almost leaps out of his chest when he encounters a soft expression on Sirius’ face, clear eyes relishing in every word spoken after weeks of radio silence.

“I’m sorry it came across that way” Sirius speaks gently as he hugs his knees, nails painted Remus’ favourite blue “I know what happened was my fault”

Remus feels his anger slipping away and he tries to hold on to it.

“No, you don’t. You never think it is your fucking fault. When you are insupportably arrogant it’s your family’s fault because that’s how they are, and they’re too the ones to blame when you shut down and mistreat everyone, or when you hex a younger Slytherin just because” he says but he sounds just as furious and authoritarian as a little kitten.

Sirius looks kind of amused, beneath layers of concentration on Remus’ words, and his mouth, and his hands. Remus wants to shup up and give him the cold shoulder, but now that he started, he can’t stop himself. And he missed Sirius’ eyes on him, in that way, like his words were water after a drought.

“And it’s James’ fault when you take candy from a first year, or mock a classmate, or tease Peter for not making it to the Quidditch team for a whole month, because he also does it and he is the hand in your conscience after all” Remus looks away and inhales, burying his hand in the sand. He sounds sadder than angrier, and Sirius leans closer, smelling of salt and chocolate and peach ice cream and cinnamon.

And it’s my fault that you’re always leaning closer, Remus thinks, and looking attentively and speaking lovingly, because I’m always so eager and it’s always expected and welcomed and you’re just having fun, testing the limits, writing long letters when you go beyond them.

“And it’s fucking Snape’s fault” he says and it’s raw and vulnerable, when he wanted it to be cold and murderous “when you spill my secret and put my life and his life on the line, because he was annoying you and you react on impulses because you’re dog when you’re not busy being an asshole”

He looks at Sirius, skin golden, lips parted, eyes full of love. Remus hiccups and presses his eyes against his palms.

“You’re right. I’ve talked about this with James” he says, softly and Remus snorts wetly, because _that’s rich,_ “how I struggle to take part of the blame, how it’s all or nothing and I often chose nothing because all is heavy to carry”

“Merlin, fuck you. That’s just another excuse. If that’s what you’re here for, you could’ve written a letter. This is not a moment for you to self-evaluate and blossom into this flawless being that you already think you are-”

“I’m not- Remus, I’m not egotripping. I’m just trying to understand, and explain, why I wandered around what I did instead of addressing it, in the letters. Truth is, I miss you, like hell. And I know I’m not flawless”

Remus looks up, Sirius’ hair flowing in the wind and the sky as pink as his lips and he knows it’s going to happen. Hard to discern whether he is being manipulated or not when he’s always two steps ahead.

“I want to do better. To address my flaws as more than just collateral damage of my interactions with the people around me, to take the part of the blame that is mine to take, to learn how to carry it gracefully-”

“Keep feeding me all this bullshit and I will throw up” he tries to be pissed off but he sounds as he does when he’s doing Prefect rounds and a third-year is out of bed, and it makes Sirius smile, a rare smile, all in his eyes, quiet and fond.

Sirius leans in, “Alright, I’ll be really upfront with you”

Remus’ stomach jolts inside him, and he closes his eyes, trying to focus on the breeze as he suffocates with the smell of salt and chocolate and peach and cinnamon.

“I think you can’t really stay mad at me, not even when I’m insupportably arrogant, or taunt another student, or fuck up beyond words” Sirius says slowly, his mouth centimeters apart from Remus’ cheek “because you’re too busy being upset about the fact that we’re further away than this”

Remus leans in and Sirius softly nudges his cheek with his nose. His insides melt as he thinks _this is it, what was missing from all the letters and the researched speeches and what I’ve been missing all this time, the proximity, his breath, his smell, his voice whispered in my ear._

“Am I wrong?” he insists, his hand on Remus’ knee.

“You can’t, like” Remus breathes out “seduce me into oblivion. Another one like this and you’re out, Sirius Black”

Remus feels Sirius nodding and opens his eyes, letting out a little sigh at the sight of him, so close, so eager.

“I’m-” Sirius trails off.

“Yeah”

Sirius hand stays on his knee as he kisses him, but Remus hands travel from his cheeks to his neck, and his shoulders and his chest, and up again, tugging at his hair, and as Sirius laughs into his mouth, chocolate-sweet and peach-fuzzy, he tells himself he is making the right decision.


	6. Fragile Mind

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The idea for this conversation was what brought this little piece into life and I'm not quite sure it came out how I wanted it to :/ 
> 
> If you'd be so kind to leave a comment telling me what did you think of it!!

Sirius has been awake for almost an hour now, just lying in Remus’ arms, tracing circles in his chest and running his fingers up and down his nape, gently kissing his skin every so often.

The quiet is lovely, but there’s a stillness that freaks Remus out – Sirius Black _is_ restless motion. While Remus has learnt how to focus and savor every moment he has as a conscient, harmless human being, Sirius is always wondering about what’s going to happen next, planning his forthcoming move, making bets and reading predictions, perpetually bored, never still.

And then, at seventeen, fleeting moments when Remus gets him to _stop_ , locked in an empty classroom or locked cupboard or hidden behind the curtains of his own bed, completely focused on Remus’ body, eyes wide and lips trembling and whispered words of devotion and desire, not a moment before and not a moment after the one they’re sharing.

Remus loves it like he has loved little else, and tries not to feel like a dirty little secret, but it’s harder when he gets to see this side of Sirius – not feel, or smell, or touch, in the dark, but _see_ , in the morning light, for hours on end, and oh, what a sight, miles and miles of tan, unblemished skin, just for him to see, still in his arms, in his bed, in his house. It makes him wonder about a few things; it makes him want a few more.

“Cupboard feels cheap, compared to this”

“Yeah” Sirius mumbles, neutral, as he runs a hand over a scar below Remus’ ear.

Remus scolds himself – will he ever be satisfied? He remembers wishing for Sirius’ attention, and when he got it, his touch, and then his kisses, and now what? All his time? He wants to just enjoy it while it lasts, but the urge to poke the wound takes over.

“Thought you enjoyed the cupboard”

“I do” Sirius chuckles, twists the hair in his chest, plants a kiss there.

Remus knows he does, Remus knows he likes the chase and the secrecy, Remus actually thinks that’s what he likes the most about it, the momentum, the rapture, he thinks that Sirius only takes twenty minutes at the time so the ecstasy and the ability to completely focus for a while don’t sell out.

The worst of it is, what if they do sell out? He doesn’t want their special minutes to dissolve into Sirius’ routine of compulsive anticipation, he would give anything to prevent that.

“We could have an enormous cupboard if we moved in together” Sirius says sleepily, and Remus feels out of breath.

“Uh?”

“Next summer, when school ends. Would you like that?”

Remus wants to explain to him how he fears time, time that turns special things into mundane ones, blends them into an overlooked routine. Would he still want to stay in his embrace when he had infinite time to do so? What comes out however, is:

“You would get bored of me”

Sirius frowns, props himself up “As if I don’t already spend all my time with you?”

“Not like his” he vaguely waves to their nakedness.

“Well, it would be a bit weird to hang around naked with my hand around your dick in the common room, wouldn’t it?”

Remus doesn’t take the joke well, and gets up, reaching for his underwear.

“Moony, come on. Our friends know. We can hardly be more public when half the student body are distant cousins of mine, that would plague you if they knew you were sticking fingers up my ass before morning classes”

“I don’t know if being Sirius Black shields one from homophobic jokes” Remus exhales, annoyed, as he rolls a cigarette “but I’m already taunted, thank you very much”

Remus couldn’t understand how the collective body of students just established that he was queer back in fourth year, but he quickly learnt how to ignore the hissed _cocksuckers_ in the hallways when he was on his own, or the folded papers sent during classes, where he could read _how much for a bj_? and things as such. Sirius would get outraged, and hex whoever he thought that had sent it, but then in April, fifth-year, he stopped sitting next to Remus, or Remus stopped sitting next to him, and Lily advised him to take advantage of his position as a Prefect and _take points to those little shits, even if they are in Gryffindor_ , in her own words.

It didn’t solve it, but in sixth year the torment lost its significance.

“Alright, then” Sirius says, sitting up, still naked “I’ll eat your face in Platform 9 ¾, September 1st, in front of everyone, if that’s what you want”

Remus lights his cigarette with a snap of fingers and takes a few drags in silence, trying to organize his thoughts. It’s more about not having to hide, to rush, then about people knowing, he figured.

“I think you keep me in a cupboard because that’s the only time you can really focus on the present” he says.

Sirius looks at him, opens his mouth, closes it, tilts his head, “Isn’t it a good definition of love?”

It’s like the air is sucked out of the room. Remus feels dizzy, holds on to his window still, back turned at Sirius, barely manages to say “Come on”

“Alright, okay” Sirius says, a little hurt, and then after a moment of quiet, softly “I do, though. Love you”

“Sirius” Remus breathes out, turns back, stares at the boy sat crossed legged on his bed, bed hair, hickeys on his neck, wants to hear it again.

“That’s how I feel when I’m around you, how I’ve always felt” Sirius keeps going “Time does stop, as cliché as that sounds”

“Yeah, for half an hour” Remus says, and watches Sirius’ face as the pieces of his broken plea come together.

He promptly gets up to join him, places his hand on his waist, gives him a little kiss on his collarbone and says against his neck, “Moony. Baby. Time doesn’t stop only when you’re getting me off. It also stops when you look at me, when you talk to me, when you just lay next to me. _You’re_ the catch”

Remus closes his eyes, relishes in those words, tries to believe them – the way his shoulders loosen up at the word _baby_ , even though it’s becoming kind of a habit, helps him to.

Sirius steals his cigarette, and Remus stares as he smokes, his hand still on his bare skin. For the first time, he consciously thinks about reciprocity, how his own feelings and perceptions, which in the beginning were mere projections, became deeply entangled with Sirius’ own, how he is more than himself when they’re next to each other – it is kind of obvious, but the fact that he _is_ to Sirius as Sirius _is_ to him was never felt more real.

Sirius blinks a few times as smoke gets in his eyes, and then Remus thinks about moving in together – if what Sirius is saying is true, he thinks he could get used to this intimacy, this stillness, merge it with what is already known and love it just the same.

And, well, he has an idea about what they’re getting into next year. Sirius is confident, and ready, and he deserves every moment of crystalized youth Remus can give him, he reasons.

“It’s not something I turn on when I get you alone in a cupboard and turn off afterwards” Sirius resumes, more quietly because of Remus’ silence “It’s always here, always growing. I could never get bored of you”

Remus pulls his arm and buries his face in the crook of his neck, inhaling the sweat and the salt and the sex and the cinnamon, and his own moondust in Sirius’ skin. Sirius stubs the cigarette on the window still and before he can catch his breath, he is back in Remus’ bed.


	7. Rug

Remus wasn’t sure if it made any sense to spend a week in Belleek the summer after seventh year: his mother was working abroad, doing a photo coverage of a report on the Colombia elections, James was busy moving in, and so were Sirius and him, and Peter had just landed a job on the Daily Prophet.

But Sirius had insisted, said it was the best time of the year, that it could be their last chance to spend a peaceful week there, even said please, and proceeded to entrust himself to invite Peter and James.

They had happily come, and had a pretty fun week, nights spent wine-drunk on the beach and days of napping in the sun, avoiding conversations regarding the war they inconspicuously stepped out of for a week. Talking about everything else, like housework.

“I didn’t even know things got dirty just by existing!” James says, sat on the floor in a reclined position, supported by the heels of his hands, and Sirius, spread on the sofa, dark jeans still unbuttoned, laughs.

“Is Lily as clueless as you?” Remus asks, sat against the sofa so Sirius’ fingers can rest underneath the collar of his shirt.

“Shit, I guess. She, like, manually washed the dishes once and it was so ineffective we had to do it again”

Peter, laid down on the floor, laughs, “Aren’t you both wizards?”

“I had to write my mom so she could teach me a washing spell”

Remus snorts, “Padfoot’s just as helpless” Sirius tickles his neck and he brings his shoulders to his ears, laughing and leaning away “Fucking pureblood wizards brought up with house-” the laughter takes his breath away.

Remus was just messing with him. Sirius quickly got the hand of cleaning and laundry spells, and was as tidy as Remus: while James and Lily were still unpacking, they did it overnight – probably because they had way less to unpack, or because they were fueled by the desire of seeing their entanglement reflected back at them, in their new flat. _First time I’ve a home that is mine_ , Sirius had said to him as they kissed on the kitchen counter.

“Moony here is a housewife, you see. Makes dinner and everything”

“Merlin’s beard, cooking!” James shouts, throws his head back “Following a recipe takes so fucking long! I’m way too exhausted after dinner for dessert”

“Get dessert while you’re at it” Sirius smirks and Peter laughs “I’m learning how to do chores, though. Professor Lupin is a patient teacher”

“Everything reward-based, you Pavlov dog” Peter says, and James snorts and Sirius sticks his tongue out, and then in Remus’ ear.

Peter isn’t wrong, though. Whenever they assemble a new piece of furniture they have sex on it, and make out as they wash the dishes, and hold hands in the neighborhood park, and massage each other’s feet as they listen to records, and Sirius’ does laundry naked, and it’s so dreamy and Remus is so in love it’s a little nauseating sometimes.

“Mind teaching me a few spells that come in handy?” James tilts his head and Sirius laughs “No bribes”

“Sure, Prongs” Remus smiles and gets up, Sirius pinches his ass as he does so “Kitchen first?”

As they leave the room, Remus turns back to look at Sirius, legs spread apart, hands on his stomach, hair sprawled out. He notices his gaze and winks exaggeratedly, and they both laugh while they look away.

“So, Pete, is working at the Daily Prophet as much of a bastard as it seems?” Sirius’ deep voice, with a sarcastic edge to it, as Remus and James make their way to the kitchen.

They go over dusting, scrubbing, mopping, vacuuming, washing, drying and tiding the cutlery without leaving the kitchen counter, James is amazed by the ease of it all, doing well until he decided to do two of them simultaneously.

“A spell for each one, lazy ass” Remus scolds as he laughs and opens up a bottle of liquor.

“Owl for you, Prongs! Dumbledore!” Peter’s voice from the other room, and James frowns before he makes his way back to the living room, great, gracious strides.

His frown intensifies as he reads the letter, “Headquarters were raided, he’s asking me if we can use my house, my parents’ house, to meet and restructure, for a while”

“Everyone knows where your parents live” Sirius frowns too “Call them here”

Remus frowns as well. He doesn’t want the Order of the Phoenix here, in his mother’s home, his childhood home, a safe place secluded from all of it.

“Moony doesn’t want to” James observes, neutrally.

Sirius looks at him, impatient, and it lights something up in the pit of his stomach.

“Can’t we do it in our flat?”

“It hardly fits ten people, let alone thirty-three. And here is far more isolated”

Remus crosses his arms and Sirius reaches for quill and parchment, taking Remus’ silence as giving in. It upsets him, the whole situation, Sirius’ behavior, but it’s quite petty, and selfish, to pick up this fight, so he stores the liquor and makes a move to go chain-smoke by the window.

Twenty minutes later, Lily and Marlene are the first to arrive, with a loud pop.

“I fucking hate apparating!” Marlene declares, flinching as she holds her forehead “we have to teach Lily how to fly a broom”

“Fly a broom to Northern Ireland?” Sirius asks, raising an eyebrow, and Lily makes her way to him.

“Yes, Black, steal my boyfriend” she grips the waistband of his jeans, buttoning them up “and then just _flaunt_ how much sex you’ve been having”

He laughs, kisses her on the cheek.

“Love of my life!” Lily squeals, runs past James and throws her arms around Remus’ neck, making him lose his balance. He hugs her back, hides his face in her hair and inhales, cherries and lilies.

“You smell so good, everyone in here stinks” he says, and she laughs.

“Merlin bless you Lupin, I know I would chop an arm off before inviting the Order to my mother’s home”

Sirius is fixing Marlene a cup of water and a piece of chocolate, but glances at them to say “Go and sulk with him by the window, then”

“Will do” she smiles as she lets him go, kissing Peter’s cheek and then greeting James with a handshake, before pulling him by his neck and kissing him passionately.

She does as she said, keeping Remus company while everyone arrives, distracting him, and sitting next to him when The Bearded Man gathers everyone around the table.

“Good evening, everyone. I am starting this meeting by passing by a parchment with every wizard identified at the raid, certified Death Eaters” Mervyn Goldstein, a woman in her 40s, dark short hair and sharp features says, and everyone quiets down.

Remus reads the names carefully, one by one, and feels sick when his eyes clash with _Regulus Black_. He looks up at James, trying to come up with a plan to shield Sirius from this, but he is next to him and understands it immediately and flinches his eyes in a pained expression. Remus excuses himself and waits for Sirius to follow, to seize comfort in his embrace, his kiss, but he doesn’t.

He carries it rather well throughout the night. Sirius reads and passes the parchment nonchalantly, interrupts the strategy scheme with a welcomed suggestion, volunteers himself for every raid he can, cuts in with a joke, asks questions and politely acknowledges the insufficient answers he is given.

He has grown so much, Remus thinks, from the insecure, love-seeking and validation-craving thirteen-year-old boy who worried if his family would have chosen him, into a man who bears the dismissal, the rejection, the kicking out, the treason from his brother, and does it with a smile, and courage to fight, and courage to start a family with another outcast.

 _Start a family_ – his own thoughts weigh in on his chest. While Sirius changed, Remus’ promise of a chosen family remained the same, and they both grew from kids stumbling in their feelings to man who dare to walk through them, grew together, with each other and within each other and despite each other sometimes, and Remus is filled with an unspeakable desire to keep growing.

The meeting stretches itself deep into the night, and everyone but Sirius yawn through the explication of the procedure to carry in case of suspicion of espionage. The Bearded Man calls it a night, hands out sleeping bags to everyone and quirks an eyebrow at Sirius, who smiles, though it doesn’t reach his eyes, and follows Remus upstairs.

“Shower?” Remus asks and Sirius nods, and they undress each other in silence, glances saying what words can't.

Sirius hums appreciatively as water hits their skin, and Remus washes his own hair quickly so he can move his fingers to Sirius’ scalp, tenderly massaging. Sirius shuts his eyes and leans his head back, lips slightly parted, and Remus slows down, applies more pressure, does it until he’s cold.

Hot water running this time, Remus runs his fingers through Sirius’ hair to get rid of the shampoo, closes the tap and reaches for the conditioner, taking a portion with his fingers.

“Way too much” Sirius says sleepily, and Remus lets half of it fall back in the container, applying the vanilla-scented lotion in the tips of his hair, leaning in to kiss the back of his shoulders once, twice.

Finally, he grabs the shower gel, scrubs it gently on Sirius’ back, then his legs, crouching, then turns him around and scrubs his abdomen, his chest, kisses the moon tattoo on his collarbone, and his neck, keeps kissing as the water washes them both.

“What did I ever do to deserve you” Sirius exhales as he casts a drying spell on his hair.

“Remember when you did my essay on Ancient Runes when I was sick” Remus replies as they slip into their pajama bottoms, slip into bed.

Remus tugs a strand of Sirius’s hair behind his hear and leans in slightly to kiss his cheek, quietly looking at him as he falls back on his pillow. He knows this is a conversation he ought to start, really, but he doesn’t know what to say, besides, of course, I love you, but it would sound borderline cruel at a time like this. 

Sirius nudges Remus’ bottom lip with his thumb, sighs, “I could’ve loved him more”

“No- this is not on you”

“’Course it is, Moony. It’s my younger brother”

“You did the best you could do”

“I didn’t, though. When I was his age- hiding out at James’, thinking of you all the time. I left him behind”

“You didn’t _hide out_ at James’, you were kicked out. I really think you did what-”

“Could have found a way to stay”

Remus closes his eyes, unable to make it better for Sirius when he very much needs to, wishes he had James’ empathy or Lily’s talent for words, wonders if any of them could even offer any comfort to an eighteen-year-old whose sixteen-year-old brother just crossed the enemy line.

“Even if- Sirius, you were a kid. You have no idea- you couldn’t have fought it on your own”

“Maybe I could. It got to a point where, from where I stood, Regulus could piss off and die. So fucking annoying, when he was thirteen, self-important and dismissive. If I wasn’t just the same, if I had been less selfish-”

“You’re- Merlin, you’re not. How many raids have you got in your schedule, for this next month?”

“Doesn’t mean shit” he sighs, buries his face in his hands, then looks back at Remus “I was loved, that’s it, you telling me I could chose my family, James offering me a home. I loved you back, and look at what it did for you, look at us now, what were even the odds? And we made it, and if I had just loved Regulus more-”

 _What were even the odds?,_ Remus thinks, _as if there is any way this wouldn't happen, as if we could've ever missed out on each other, this is written somewhere between canis major and the fucking moon since you stepped foot in this room for the first time, you should see how you are looking at me right now, how do you play odds with something that's greater than everything that could be at stake?_

“You can’t help someone who doesn’t accept your help” Remus says, helplessly.

“That’s not-” Sirius groans, turns on his stomach, says after a while, with his face buried in this pillow “This is hardly a fair debate. I know how I feel, you can’t change that, no matter how much you want to”

Remus sighs, gently runs his hands through Sirius’ hair, murmurs “I’m sorry”

Sirius turns and scoots closer so he is holding Remus, face buried in his chest instead, and inhales.

“Yeah, I am too”

Drowsiness comes over them, cradling their bodies together, in sync.

“When this is over” Sirius starts, but then trails off, because that’s hardly a fair debate as well.

Remus has a million things he wants to say. Sirius' heartbeat is slowing down, and he says none of them.


End file.
